Witches
by Jelly Beans Galore
Summary: The Silver Millennium held a gruesome fate for sure, but not all subsequent lives went as smoothly as the one we are accustomed with.


The building is large. Upon further examination, Rayne realizes that it is a church. Then, she looks behind the church grounds and sees a large mansion. That is obviously where her distant cousin lives, though why he would choose to live in a place so far from the road is a mystery to her. She has been told that Darien Shields is rather reclusive, having been orhaned at an early age, but she has never seen this man before so it hasn't been of any particular interest. Rayne has honestly never expected to meet him either, but her father hasa suddenly decided to go on another merchants' expedition and her grandfather has passed on just the previous year, so she is unable to stay there anymore. Therefore, Rayne is to go live in Mineur Rose.

At least she will still be living near a church.

Rayne isn't very pleased that she would be in the country, though. She is a respectable lady from New York and doesn't want to be cavorting with these types of people, those whose hair falls in their faces before it is determined that a trim is needed. Rayne has neatly trimmed bangs and her hair is always tied back in an orderly manner.

She hardly notices when the door to her carriage is opened.

The man must be her cousin, though he has the messiness of the country, for he has the traditional black-as-night hair and blue-as-the-ocean eyes. Rayne has violet. "Rayne," he greets as if he is bored. She winced at the familiarity, but brushes it off. He _is_ her cousin, after all, and she will be living with him. There are also country manners to add into the equation.

She thinks perhaps that her cousin will be showing her around, but Darien quickly explains that he needs to check on one of the many buildings in the town that he owns.

"Sometimes it seems as if the managers can only 'manage' to give themselves the correct salary," he mutters to himself. Rayne knows that Darien hasn't intended for her to hear, but she can't help but snicker. She has overheard her father complaining about something similar before. This is not just a country thing. Darien remembers what he had been saying. He advises her to familiarize herself with the grounds before heading over to his house, where the head maid will give her a tour. "Her name is Mrs. Hill. I suspect that she will either be checking on dinner or organizing the library if you do not find her in the main parlor."

Rayne agrees. For the next hour or so, she aimlessly wanders through the same areas. She has figured her way long before. Then she passes a large weeping willow. The branches and leaves hide the person twirling inside from view, but the child quickly flies out and to the ground.

The girl looks up at Rayne in surprise. Rayne takes notice that the girl is darkened by the sun, almost as if she is a farmer. She pushes a long, lacy white sleeve down her arm—this is clearly a woman's, not a child's, dress. As she rises, she sees that the girl is most definitely _not_ a child. Although she lacks height, the girl has a rather large bosom and a curved waist. Rayne notes that the arm is paler, but had obviously tanned when the girl was allowed to wear short sleeves in the heat of the summer. Her hair is a pale, bleached blonde—merely pinned in two spots to keep it out of her face—and her eyes are glittery blue.

Rayne wonders why she is on her cousin's property.

The girl seems to realize that she needs to leave before Rayne is able to come up with a good description lest she wants to be known as a trespasser. She scurries away toward the road. She runs very far, surprising Rayne. She assumed that the girl would live closer than _that_, but it doesn't concern her.

Rayne then decides that she has had enough of being out of doors. She enters the mansion where Mrs. Hill is quick to greet her. Mrs. Hill is a bubbly blonde woman whose hair is fluttered with gray. She has wide green eyes, excited to show the new lady of the house around.

She points out every room in the house, from the library, to the kitchen, to the guest rooms, to the drawing room, to the sitting room, to the servants' quarters, to the dining room, to the master bedroom, to the garden. "The blonde man—that is my son, Jadeite. He and the master grew up together, you see," Mrs. Hill babbles. "They were and still are, if I say, close friends. Jadeite is very handsome, if I may say. Oh, dear, whatever am I saying! You are a lady; you have no need to hear of country service. You are to marry a nice, city man. Well, all is well. Come. I will show you to your room now."

Rayne blushes to her ears. As if she would ever condescend to marry someone of that position, Mrs. Hill has continued on with implications. Rayne takes them in stride and requests that she be left alone the remainder of the evening.

* * *

"I trust your room is to your liking?" asks Darien Shields. Rayne turns her eyes from her breakfast to across the table where her cousin is slowly ingesting his own. She gives a rather slow nod. She glances toward the kitchen doors as they fly open and a flurry of servants comes out.

"However," adds she quickly, "the maid who cleans my room . . . . It seems as if she forgets to clean sometimes."

Rayne looks back. Darien has stood up and left. She sighs. Country manners. Honestly . . . .

"Oh, Serenity! She is a sweet girl, really, but it's so hard to make her do her job," laments Mrs. Hill. Rayne cam hardly believe that the servants are allowed to dine with the family of the house, but she supposes that she is in no position to criticize her cousin. It is not too terrible in any case; without them, the room would be rather empty and it is nice to converse with some of them. In the past week of her stay, Rayne had grown close with the Hill family. She only wishes that their are more women employed in the house

That prompts a thought. "Why, then, is Miss Serenity not dining with us?" She hopes that Serenity is cleaning her room.

"Renity has family nearby. It is only her immediate family that is in trade. They had . . . hard times," remarks Jadeite cautiously.

Mr. Hill replies, "There is nothing wrong with being in trade."

"Perhaps to us, for we have done it all our lives," says Andrew, Jadeite's elder brother, "but they were never a poor family."

She finds it deplorable that they would speak so freely of others. Rayne feels no need to comment.

* * *

The first time Rayne hears of witch trials is the day Amelia Anderson is persecuted. Rayne has seen Amelia around a few times in the short month she has been in the country. If she remembers correctly (and she does), Amelia is a mousy girl with light brown hair always tied back in a plain bun of which a few long strands will always escape and are perpetually hanging in her face. She always has her nose stuck in a book to the extent that neither Rayne nor the majority of the citizens coan ever recall what color her eyes are.

Darien is nearly always out working on one of the buildings he rents to merchants, so Mrs. Hill is the one to rush up and inform the woman of the trial.

"I apologize, but I didn't catch that. You said who was doing what?" asks Rayne as she rises from the couch in her room, setting down the novel she has been reading. The dull rain pattering against her window has kept her from going to look for a new hat.

"Amelia Anderson!" Mrs. Hill cries. "She's been accused of witchcraft. Of course, it makes sense. That girl is always carrying around one or another book and she refuses to let anyone take a look. They must be her many spellbooks. And that poor man—Zoisite Reynolds—there is no doubt that he is under her spell. There is no way a bluestocking like her could possibly find a husband like that without bewitching him. Well, I cannot believe that she masqueraded as one of us for so long, but I am glad that we will be rid of her."

Rayne walks to the doorway skeptically. She has never heard of witches except in fairy tales, and she is sure that there are none in New York. "Am I hearing correctly? Are you saying that Miss Anderson is a witch?"

"Yes! You must hurry or we will miss her drowning!"

Thus, Rayne Shields is rushed off to see this spectacle with the Hills and other servants.

Rayne watches in horror and fascination as they push Amelia toward the lake. She screams and kicks. She is crying. Her fiancé is being held back by the men of the town as he tries to run to her. He is screaming as well. Someone in the crowd, toward the front, perhaps the mayor, is speaking. Rayne strains to hear.

"No wo . . . ve knowledge of medi . . . . Clearly, Amelia Anderson is . . ._ witch_! If . . . floats . . . witch!"

She wonders what will happen if she sinks. Surely the woman would drown. They will have murdered an innocent woman! But nobody in the crowd speeks up. Rayne tries to relax. Surely if this girl truly is innocent, someone other than her bewitched betrothed would be pleading for her.

Amelia turns her eyes to the crowd, begging. Rayne can see them from as far back as she is. They are a startling blue-gray and the fear and panic that fills them is not guilty. It is just that. This is a terrified, innocent woman whom happens to like to read. Rayne decides to speak up, but it is too late. They push Amelia into the water. She thrashes around, but she floats.

The crowd gasps, even though they have already made their decision.

Rayne stands still as water drenches the woman's dress. It becomes too heavy for her to hold. She sinks under and after many long minutes, they know she has drowned. The men release Zoisite Reynolds. He runs to the edge as fast as he can and dives in. When he discovers that Amelia is long gone and there is no way to revive her, he sits still underneath the water, letting it fill his lungs.

* * *

Rayne walks around the garden. The garden is full of roses in any shade imaginable. She has seen red, pink, yellow, white, and yellow-and-red. She had just entered the garden!

"Darien really loves roses," says a voice behind her. She looks. It is Jadeite. He is sweating from the sweltering day and as he wipes his forehead, a large streak of mud takes its place. She feels tempted to smile, but it is entirely inappropriate. Rayne steps back to give him room.

Jadeite says, "He does wish he could be here with you more, but he has 'work'."

Something in his tone is false and laughing. He seems to believe that Darien is at work no more than the sky is green. Rayne still does not reply. Jadeite absorbs himself in his work.

His smile is beautiful.

* * *

The second trial she attends is the trial of Minette Somptueux, a young French immigrant. Minette is beautiful in any sense of the word—long golden blonde hair with neatly trimmed bangs and each day, a nice red bow somewhere on her head, sparkling blue eyes, and flawless skin. She enchants the men of Mineur Rose and the women adore her just the same. Minette is the town beauty, and there is no denying it. It is sad that this is the evidence against her. Like Amelia, Minette is recently engaged to Sgt. Kunzite Walters when she is accused.

Minette's trial is less of a scene. No one in Mineur Rose doubts that Minette is a witch. She is simply too beautiful. In fact, there is a hardly a trial. She is declared a witch and to be killed. To be rid of her spell, Sgt. Walters is ordered to give her execution.

Rayne happens to be walking by while this is taking place. Minette has been one of the few women she likes conversing with despite the difficulties understanding her accent and the idioms she uses. Surely sweet Minette can't possibly one of the vile witches. Yet, as with Amelia, no one in attendance speeks out and defends her. She wondersd if this stems from fear that they too will be condemned.

Minette is thrown onto a stage, still wearing a fine silk gown that Rayne had seen her in at a party just the previous week. It is now dirty and smudged, much like Minette's face. She weakly tries to stand up. Tears streak across her face, washing it a little bit. Mud smears the clean wood. She slips to her knees and tucks her hair behind her ears. She looks at the crowd and shakes her head fearfully.

Sgt. Walters steps up, sword in hand.

"Kunzy," she whimpers. "Save me. I didn't do anyzhing. Please! I didn't do anyzhing! Zhey 'ave all known me for years! Please . . . . I didn't do anyzhing."

He gives her a cold look, as if he can't believe that he'd ever fallen for her "act". Rayne wants to jump up and yell at him. Betraying a lover is something unforgivable. Rayne knows this instinctively; she wants to protect Minette. Minette is completely innocent.

The Frenchwoman surrenders. She draws her arms to her chest—she is saving her heart. She doesn't want it injured any farther—lifting her head as high up as possible to make it easier to cut it off.

While the denizens of Mineur Rose watch as they would a play, Rayne turns away and hurries down the street, desperately trying to ignore the single shriek that fills the air. Finally, she stops and turns back to face what has happened.

Sgt. Walters is handing the sword to someone. He climbs down the steps and continues on his way as if nothing has happened. He brushes past Rayne. She sees his eyes.

They are a cool, steely gray. Steel like the sword. Steel like Minette.

* * *

Darien enters the library. He is surprised to Rayne still awake, sitting by a candle for light to read. He reaches for his papers and takes a seat next to her.

"Why are you not asleep, cousin?" he asks.

Rayne replies, "My room is not clean."

He gives a long, deep sigh. "I apologize. Serenity has a habit for such things. It seems as if her mind is always flitting about to something else, never on the present. I will speak to her as soon as possible. If you feel so inclined, you may use another room for the night."

Rayne does not accept or decline. "This happens often?"

Darien's silence is a yes.

"Then why is she still employed?"

He flushes. He makes his excuses and leaves.

* * *

The third is a young woman considered country even to these folk. Carlita Jamieson is a farmer's daughter. Whenever she solemnly stomps through town with her large, loud boots, her dark curly hair is held back solely by a faded green cloth. Her skirts are always too short, but in the cool winter months like now, she wears large woolen socks. They are hand-me-downs from older sisters even though she is much taller than them. Carlita's "crimes" are knowing of herbs.

"Explain your potions!" they demand to her.

"Potions?" wonders Carlita, in her honey sweet voice. "I'm afraid I have no clue what you mean."

The town officials loudly exclaim to everyone in sight that Nephrite von Aster has seen this woman mixing a potion underneath an elm tree. The crowd cheer and yell for Carlita to be put to death immediately.

Carlita protests. "It was a drink for my sister. Everyone knows that the bark of an elm tree heals the throat. If you add honeysuckle, you can make a nice tea that tastes good and makes you feel better. My mama told me that, and her mama told her that. It's not a potion. It's simply a natural remedy. We can't afford to go to the doctor."

"Your mother is a witch too, then?" an official questions.

Carlita pales. It becomes apparent to her that no matter how she protests, they will not listen, and now she has brought her whole family into this. Rayne stares at the horror stricken girl as she lowers her head. Carlita clasps her hands together and prays until someone up there notices and strikes her. She tumbles from the chair, the cloth falling out of place. As she fixes it, Carlita rises and looks at him, her lips pursed in shock.

"You're not going to do anything?" she asks, rising to speak to the mayor. The mayor backs away as if he expects her to cast a spell. "He struck me and I did nothing. I'm not a witch. I'm from this town. I should have protection too."

The mayor responds with, "Praying is for Christians. You cannot fool us."

Carlita shakes her head. Why is no one speaking for her? She takes a seat in her chair quietly and waits.

This time, Rayne is standing at the front of the crowd. She wonders why she is so soon desensitized to this. The murder of innocent women is not something she should find normal.

"Carly? Leets? Lita?"

Rayne glances at the voice. She sees the young woman from many months ago. This time her hair is tied in two long braids. Her dress is rather plain—simple cotton and an apron—but she is still very pretty. The blonde shows something to Carlita that makes her smile and relax.

The officials takes out a rope. Rayne turns away as she always does before an execution. The girl steps up to her.

"Hello. I am surprised you do not recognize me. I have been your maid for this entire stay. I am Serenity Somptueux—Minette was my second cousin. My grandfather on my father's side was French. We are not of the same class, as you see," says Serenity cheerfully. Rayne eyes her. The cheer is rather odd with everything that is happening, especially considering that Serenity must have been close with two of the accused, if not three, as it was possible that she knew Amelia as well. "I am sorry I ran off that day. You see, Master Shields allows me to play there once I have finished my work, but when I saw you, I realized I had forgotten to prepare your room, and I had left all of my supplies at home. That is why your tour from Mrs. Hill was so . . . detailed. I apologize for that. If you'll excuse me, I must get back to shopping though. Master Shields has entrusted me with this task and I will fulfill it. It was nice to officially meet you, Miss Rayne."

Serenity skips off down the street. Rayne grimaces at the use of her Christian name. She decides to ignore it. Serenity is very likeable and rather childlike. It is no wonder that she is still under Darien's employment. Rayne remembers the look of admiration when the maid mentioned her cousin.

She smiles.

* * *

"Good morning, Miss Rayne!" cries Serenity. The sun is not yet up, but Rayne knows that she will not be able to return to sleep with the bubbly blonde in the room. She sits up and speaks with Serenity for hours on end. She will never understand the instant connection, but she will never care.

When the sun rises enough, Rayne notices a few faint bruises on her neck in the shape of a mouth.

* * *

The fourth trial that Rayne witnesses is Serenity Somptueux's. Rayne has been sitting in her room, chatting with the maid (today's hairstyle is a long french braid) when suddenly a loud chorus of yells can be heard from her window. Serenity rises to see what is happening. She decides to answer the door and if someone else does, watch. Rayne thinks that whatever it could be is of no particular interest until she happens to glance outside and watch as Serenity is pushed and pulled. Rayne stiffens. Of all the people accused, Serenity is the only one she _truly_ knew, and this is ridiculous. Serenity is the sweetest girl in the world. It just isn't possible for her to be a witch. Rayne isn't even sure what they could have possibly accused her of.

The woman stands from her bed, hurrying to the main floor. She pales as she hears Mrs. Hill giving the same speech she always does when a woman was accused—"Oh, that girl! She had us fooled so long!"

A deep voice quiets her. Rayne turns to see Darien staring at the open door while the distant screams of his young maid waft in. Darien hasn't been present for any of the other trials, but Rayne doubts that her cousin's pallor would be present for them, even if they had been employed under him. Rayne _knows_, even if Serenity has never confided in her, that the maid and the businessman have an affair. She can also see that her cousin is prepared to through away their family's reputation for her, which Rayne wouldn't particularly mind at all. She finds that the lower class a person is, the better they are for their spirit has gone without luxuries.

"I have heard that trials are very enjoyable events. Would you like to attend, Rayne?" invites Darien.

Rayne would feel ill if she nodded, for attending the murder of this woman would not be enjoyable in the slightest, but he makes no move to wait for her answer. He is already calling for a carriage and they are preparing to leave.

When they arrive at the scene, Darien orders to be let in to see his maid. The guards are arguing with him, and Rayne slips back. Unlike any of the other prisoners, Serenity stands tall. She smiles when she greets Rayne.

"I have a favor to ask," Serenity says cheerfully. Some of the accused glare at her, but she is oblivious. She lowers her voice as she hands two chokers to Rayne. The pendants on both are gold, but the symbols differ—one a crescent moon and one something foreign. The moon necklace is white, while the foreign one is red. "I had intended to do this myself . . . .

"The white is mine; the red is yours. The tree you first saw me by, climb up it. You will see three others there. Put mine on. Nobody will find them until it is our time," orders the blonde. She hesitates and adds, "Tell Darien that I love him." She looks startled for a moment, blue eyes wide, and tells Rayne to hide. Rayne waits a long time before she can slink back out. She rejoins a tight-lipped Darien and they return to the house.

For the long, sleepless night, Rayne hears him scream and call Serenity's name. Sometimes she even hears, "My bunny!" which she thinks is odd. When she sees him in the morning, he looks terrible, hair un-brushed, dark circles under his eyes, and an all-around lifeless look.

Whenever he is spoken to, he mumbles, "Serenity."

* * *

It is a cool winter day when Rayne is able to go to the tree. She has not had a chance, and if she were to be honest, she would have been too stunned to go. The tree was _Serenity's_ tree, regardless of who owned it.

She rubs her hand on the trunk and bites her lip. "I'm sorry, Serenity."

Rayne climbs up and, just as she was told, sees three other chokers, blue, orange, and green, in that order. She starts to put the white one on, but freezes. She removes the green. White is supposed to be there.

Rayne jumps down, the red still in her hand. She sighs.

* * *

The fifth and final trial that Rayne Shields attends is her own.

It happened in the blink of an eye one spring morning as she descended the stairs for breakfast. She sees first her cousin, whom had been steadily feeling better about _her_ death but now seems very troubled again. Then she turns and sees Mr. Hill. There is pity in his gaze. Andrew Hill can't find it in himself to look at her. She sees Mrs. Hill's look of contempt, the same she gave Serenity before her. And finally, there is Jadeite, Jadeite who left the room as soon as he saw her enter.

Rayne take off running to her room, but she knows that it's inevitable. They come for her.

She had no idea that the trials were more than the execution, she thinks as she stares at the three long burns on her arm. She hates them. She hates the way they feel familiar, and the way she feels that she not be burnt at all. Rayne doesn't burn.

She stares harshly at the red marks when masculine fingers brush her wrist. She winces. The salt of the skin burns. Rayne inclines her head.

It's Jadeite.

"My love," he whispers. She closes her eyes and blinks back tears. "I am so sorry. I wish I could save you." The man takes her wrist in his hand and kisses it gently. It burns, especially since the tears on his cheeks slip down into her wounds, but she doesn't mind. Rayne loves him. "You're not a witch. You're beautiful."

Rayne sniffles. She will not cry. She is not weak. She remembers the choker in her pocket and grimaces. Serenity had known that Rayne would be accused, but she hadn't wanted to upset her.

Serenity hadn't been expecting to be accused before her.

"Take this," she mumbles, trying not make her voice high-pitched and snotty. She is unsuccessful. She uses one hand to wipe the tears from her face, and with the other, Rayne presses the choker into his hand. "Put it on Serenity's tree. I . . . have a feeling that you'll know where.

"Oh!" she exclaims, remembering that she had never given Serenity's message. Rayne says, "I saw Serenity before . . . . She asked me to do that, and she also asked me to tell Darien that she loved him."

Rayne is hesitant to reveal their secret, but her love already appears to be aware.

"Their affair was not secret in the household, love," whispers Jadeite. "They would meet by that tree. Everyone knew. They would have married if there hadn't be the witch trials—she would have been accused of bewitching him. Little did they know it would happen anyway—and you, of course. Darien would often tell me that he didn't want to ruin your reputation by marrying down. He couldn't see you much, but Darien values his family highly."

Rayne nods. It makes sense. He had been very kind the few times she saw him. She shakes her head then. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Rayne wouldn't have cared. She could've married down too then. She tells Jadeite that. He laughs bitterly.

"I love you. This isn't fair."

Years later, he will never remember who said that.

Rayne sniffles again and is determined to be strong. "Pro-promise me . . . that you will find somebody you love and marry her. You will have children and raise them to be good. You will be happy. And you will tell them of their spirit mother in heaven who will always love them even if she has never met . . . ." She sobs. "And make sure Darien does the same. Serenity wouldn't want him to be unhappy."

"I will never love again," he swears.

"Then make her kind," says Rayne.

They are silent for a moment.

"I don't want to die. . . . Serenity shouldn't have died. I was supposed to protect her!" cries Mars. Her general hugs her tight through the bars. It is uncomfortable, but it is all they can do.

"Your mother wouldn't want you anywhere near me," she says.

"I love you.

"I need to go," he says. "I'm not supposed to be back here."

She replies, "I love you . . . ."

He leaves.

* * *

"Serena, get down from there!"

The blonde shakes her head. All her friends can see are her feet, clad in beat-up tennis shoes. Serena is standing high on an old branch. The tree itself is old, nearly five hundred years. She reaches for the five chokers. Serena considers them for a moment and jumps down. The blue-haired one, Amy, winces, worrying that Serena will break an ankle—something that could happen to a klutzy girl like her.

"Look!" cries Serena, fastening the white one to her neck. She hands the necklaces to the correct friends.

"What are they?" asks Lita.

Mina smiles happily and puts in on. In her English accent, she squeals, "It's so pretty!"

Serena gives an "I don't know" shrug.

Raye Hino fastens her choker.

**So, this _is_ in the basic Sailor Moon universe. I don't have much to say about this story other than I really wanted to write something about the Salem Witch Trials. I hope you liked it.**


End file.
